


Civilized

by coreopsis



Series: Lost Horizons [20]
Category: Hard Core Logo (1996)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-01-08
Updated: 2001-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coreopsis/pseuds/coreopsis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Talk of addictions and unexplained fears, home cooking and sex, rock-n-roll and people who are Not in Love.  A few weeks after Contrary and Closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Civilized

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lori J and Nicole S. for beta, and listening to me bitch and moan and being all-around cool chicks.  
> For Diane and anyone else who was waiting--I'm sorry this took so long to finish. I hope you don't want to kill me when you read it.

"Could we please get back to work?" Jenna put her hands on her hips, and Billy wouldn't have been surprised if she'd stamped her foot. "I can't stay here all day waiting for you guys to get focused."

Gary sheepishly put away the baby pictures he'd been showing to Taylor, who said dismissively, "Lighten up, Jenna. Going two minutes over a take five never killed anybody."

"Maybe not, but if you had been on time in the first place, we wouldn't be behind schedule now."

"I told you I had a very good reason."

"Oh yeah, what? Stayed over at Billy's too late last night?" She cut her eyes over at Billy who just stared back, neither confirming nor denying anything.

Taylor didn't say anything, but a flush spread over his cheeks that Billy didn't think was from embarrassment so much as anger. Maybe it was the muscle ticking in the kid's jaw as if he was grinding his teeth that gave him that impression. After a long moment of Jenna and Taylor staring each other down, while Billy watched in interest and Gary picked at his bass in embarrassment, Taylor finally said, "If you have to know, Miss Nosy, I was at the hospital all last night and this morning until I came here. My-- Paul...he OD'd last night and I couldn't leave until I knew he'd be all right."

Jenna's annoyed scowl was quickly replaced by a compassionate...scowl. "Well, why didn't you just say so? If you need to go..."

"No, I'm good." Sitting down on his stool, Taylor brandished his sticks and said, "Let's get back to work."

"Well, okay, but if you and Billy need to leave just--"

"Hello," Billy waved at her and then patted his hip. "Funny, I don't see him attached here anywhere."

"Come on, you guys are obviously doin--uh, closer than you used to be. Spending more time together and all that." Jenna smirked at Billy as if daring him to deny it.

Why would he deny anything? What she said was true, but he didn't like her assumption that just because Taylor went somewhere that Billy would too. He *had* been at the hospital for a couple of hours last night, but only because he'd been with Taylor when he got the call. When it seemed clear that Paul wasn't going to kick off just yet, Billy had gone home to get some sleep. And he'd thought that Taylor was going leave soon after him to do the same, but he obviously hadn't.

Billy watched Taylor adjusting one of his drums and carefully considered the fact that Taylor had obviously lied to him about his intention to leave last night. He thought the kid was stupid for losing sleep over something he had no control over, but as long as it didn't have any direct impact on Billy's life, the lie didn't bother him at all. If he couldn't handle being lied to, he'd never have lasted two days in the music business. Everybody lied. He lied--not much, but on occasion, even to himself. That was no big deal.

Being inside a hospital, however, had been a big deal. He had always been afraid of hospitals, but he hated them even more now for the conflicting memories they brought up. Weird that even though he hadn't had to do the hospital deathbed scene with him, Joe was still the first thing he thought of when he walked into a hospital. First thing. Last thing. Only thing.

Billy'd had about five Joe-free days until last night's trip to the emergency room--maybe there was a group somewhere that would be impressed with that. *My name is Billy and I'm a Joe-aholic. It's been five days since my last thought of Joe.* Why not? That obsession was older than the one for alcohol. The two had combined more than a few times. Like when Joe took him to the emergency room for alcohol poisoning, and Billy had woken up almost in tears when he realized where he was. Joe had held his hand until a nurse came in, then he shoved it away and called Billy a fucking crybaby. He didn't touch Billy again for a week, but he also didn't rub Billy's nose in what had happened. He could have so easily refreshed the humiliation by bringing it up every chance he'd gotten.

And then there was the time years later, when Joe had forced him to go the clinic after he'd cut his hand open on a broken bottle. He rubbed his thumb over the scar on his hand as he'd done a million times in the last ten years. If he'd been in a rational--read: sober--state of mind, he'd have known right away that he needed stitches, but his fear of the hospital had overwhelmed his fear of not being able to play. Joe had threatened to knock him out and drag him, and Billy was never quite sure if Joe was telling the truth when he said it was because of Billy's guitar playing and the possible loss of same. At the time, he'd accepted the explanation, but now he thought maybe Joe had just been worried about *him* and that was the only way he could show it.

So...hospitals equaled Joe in his fucked up reasoning. And last night had been an exercise in torture because he'd forced himself to stay when he didn't have to be there, just to prove to himself that he could. Because the kid could use the support, he had stayed, even though he'd had to go outside four or five times to have a smoke to calm his nerves. He could almost hear Joe calling him a baby again, but his voice was softer and more teasing...

Billy shook his head sharply and hit his cue right on time, even though he'd barely been paying attention to Jenna. He had the songs down cold, and he'd be happy to go into the studio tomorrow, but if the rest of them needed more practice he wouldn't complain. They were sounding tighter every day, and this next album would be their best work yet.

The song was approaching the second verse, when Billy realized that he was the only one playing. He stopped and looked up in surprise to find the rest of the band staring at him with puzzled faces. "What?"

Jenna blinked at him and said, "You were playing 'August'."

Billy frowned at that statement of the obvious. "Yeah, so?"

"The rest of us were doing 'Don't Let Go'."

"Fuck." Billy rubbed his face and cursed again under his breath. This *never* happened to him. He never lost focus when it came to music. Plenty of times he'd been so drunk he could barely stand up and he'd still been able to play nearly any song he knew. This did not happen to him. Yeah, okay, he might forget the words sometimes, but he never fucked up the music--especially if he wrote it. "Sorry. Let's try it again."

"Look guys, why don't we just call it a day?" Jenna fiddled with her sheet music and said tiredly, "We're all obviously distracted, and we'd be better off to just start fresh in the morning."

Billy watched Taylor and Gary almost race to see who could get ready to leave first, and then he turned to Jenna who was gathering up her music and shoving it in her bag. He lowered his voice and asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah, of course." She looked up and her smile wobbled around the edges before disappearing completely. "I'm meeting with my lawyer this afternoon... about getting a divorce."

Billy nodded, not surprised in the least. "Well, if that's what it takes to make you happy..." He motioned at the other guys and said, "We'll take up whatever slack you need us to. All you gotta do is say so."

"Thanks, Billy. I--" She did surprise him then by throwing her arms around his neck for a quick hug. As she pulled away, she wiped at the corner of her eye with a knuckle. "I really appreciate that, but I'll be fine. I won't let it affect my work."

Billy didn't see how that was possible, but if it made her feel better to think so, he wasn't going to call her on it. Before he could think of anything to say, she was saying in teasing tone, "Taylor won't get jealous 'cause I hugged you, will he?"

"That's up to him, but I don't see why he would."

"Billy, you're not going to hurt him, are you? He's young and out of his league with you."

"He's old enough, and sometimes I think he knows more than he should. Maybe I'm the one who's out of his depth here. Did you ever think of that?"

"Honestly? No." She winked sassily and added, "But then I don't spend much time contemplating your sex life."

Billy laughed and said, "But you admit that you do spend *some* time contemplating my sex life?"

"I admit nothing, mister, absolutely nothing." She was smiling now and had lost some of that pinched look she'd worn all morning, so it seemed to come out of left field when she leaned in close and said, "Don't you dare do anything to fuck up this band, okay? We've had too many changes and we all fit really well now, and I do *not* want to audition a new drummer...or a guitarist."

"Hey, that's the last thing I want, too." Billy looked over her shoulder at Taylor who was standing by the door watching them with interest but no jealousy apparent on his face. "He's smart enough to see what's important." At least Billy desperately hoped that was the case, because while he didn't financially need Jenifur anymore, he liked being part of a successful band and didn't want to have to start over somewhere else.

Jenna turned slightly so that she could follow his line of sight, and echoed his thoughts quietly. "I hope you're right." Then she picked up her bag, said goodbye, and left the rehearsal room.

With Gary already gone, Billy and Taylor were left alone. Surprised that the kid had hung around since he'd seemed in such a hurry to get gone, Billy walked over and said as much. "I thought you'd be gone by now."

"I wanted to talk to you first." Taylor shrugged and looked down at the floor. "You think I'm making a mistake, don't you? Sticking by Paul right now."

"Nah, he's your friend. You gotta do..." Billy waved a hand vaguely. "Whatever. It's nothing to me."

"You're not jealous or anything?"

Billy stared at Taylor and tried to gauge the intention behind the question, but he was surprisingly closed off, so Billy turned his gaze inward. He discovered that, although he'd had a few scattered moments of jealousy before, he wasn't jealous now. He honestly did not care what Taylor did concerning his ex-roommate. *Ex-lover* a little voice whispered. But that made no difference either. "No, I'm not jealous."

"Well, you know...he and I used to...and you and I are..."

"It's not like you to get tongue-tied, kid. Spit it out--you used to sleep with him and now you sleep with me. I still don't care how much time you spend with him." As Billy put a hand on Taylor's shoulder, he realized how seldom he reached out to the kid outside of sex. He'd usually hang back and let Taylor do the touching. That was significant somehow, and the surprise in Taylor's eyes told Billy that it hadn't gone unnoticed by him either. He gave Taylor's shoulder a little pat and withdrew. "So are you going back to the hospital now?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd drop by."

"You need--" he didn't want to say it, but... "--anything?"

"No. I could tell it made you uncomfortable to be there. And I understand, given how you feel about Paul."

Billy reached into his pocket for a cigarette and found himself admitting, "It wasn't him. It was the place."

"Oh?" For a moment, Taylor looked confused, but then his eyes cleared. "Oh...in that case, I really appreciate that you went with me."

Billy shook his head and flicked the flame of his lighter to the end of his cigarette. Being appreciated twice in one day was too weird. He needed to go spend some time alone being broody and self-involved before this being supportive thing got too far out of hand.

 

***

Taylor stared at the empty, neatly made bed in bewilderment for a moment, then walked back out into the hallway and grabbed the first nurse he saw. "Where is he? The patient in 327--Paul Redding. He was here this morning."

The woman motioned him to the desk and picked up a chart. "He checked himself out AMA."

"Checked *himself*...how could...what?" He didn't understand any of this. He'd left Paul here this morning with the reasonable assumption he'd still be here this afternoon. "And what the hell is AMA?"

"Against Medical Advice. It means the doctor--"

"Yeah, okay, I know what it means now." He slammed his hand against the wall. "That idiot!"

The nurse just looked at him calmly and said, "We couldn't hold him against his will."

Taylor nodded, and tried to swallow down his anger, but his voice was still too strident to his own ears. "I know. I know. He's stupid and has a fucking death wish. I. Know."

"I'm sorry, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?" She looked like she really wanted him to say no, so Taylor granted her wish.

"No, that's plenty. Thank you." He turned around and walked down the hallway until he came to a waiting area. He dropped some coins in a pay phone and called Paul's house. When no one answered, he headed for the elevator.

When he got down to the lobby, he tried again from another pay phone and still got no answer. Calling from the cell phone he'd left in his car got no response either so he did what had become second nature in the past few weeks. He started dialing Billy's number. He stopped himself before hitting the last digit.

Billy didn't know Paul that well, and he wouldn't know where to look for him. So under those circumstances, calling Billy was pointless. Taylor rested his head against the steering wheel and took a deep breath. He had to think clearly and stop trying to lean on Billy all the time.

First thing to do was to go to the house and see if Paul had just unplugged the phone or something equally stupid. If that was not the case and he wasn't there, Taylor would start calling his friends. He'd start with the ones they had in common and work his way out from there. As angry as he was at Paul's reckless behavior, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach was starting to overwhelm everything else. After his father had kicked him out, he'd had too many occasions to feel fear, being swallowed up by it until he couldn't breathe, and he didn't appreciate having to go through it on his friend's behalf.

Paul's car was in the garage, but since he'd gone to the hospital in an ambulance, that meant nothing more than that he hadn't been by to pick it up. Taylor let himself in with the key he'd forgotten to give back, and looked in every room to no avail. The place was empty and the phone was in working order. Although he'd known it already, the fact that the answering machine was turned off struck him as unbearably sad. Paul must have lost all hope of finding work to make himself unreachable.

Taylor stood at the kitchen counter with the telephone and Paul's address book, and started making calls. After a dozen calls with no positive results, his stomach was in knots and his head was aching. He took a quick break to get some aspirin and a bottle of water, and then picked up the phone again. He started to dial another number when a noise made him spin around. When he saw who it was, he sagged back against the counter in relief.

Paul stood in the doorway, looking awful. His normally golden blond hair was dull and lank, his face was pale and unshaven, and he didn't seem too steady on his feet. His blue eyes were so red-rimmed and bloodshot that it made Taylor's own eyes throb just to look at them. His voice was raspy and low when he spoke. "I saw your car in the driveway, and couldn't imagine what you'd be doing here."

"Looking for you." He put the phone down next to the address book, lining up the edges precisely. "Wondering if you were dead yet."

Paul held his arms out to his sides. "Well, unless I'm a zombie, I'm still among the living. You're welcome to go now."

"You need help," said Taylor, ignoring the invitation.

"Not from *you*, so why don't you piss off?" Paul's eyes narrowed and his mouth curled up in a sneer. "I'm sure your new boyfriend is lonely without you there to suck his cock."

Taylor flew across the room and got up in Paul's face, not even trying to rein in the sudden fury that made his voice shake as he said, "Don't you fucking *dare* try to put this on me. We broke up a long time ago and your fucking *habit* had a lot to do with it--but I stayed your friend. So don't you act all wounded and hurt that I'm seeing someone else. Billy's not even the first anyway."

"Those others were fucks, Taylor, flings." He spit the words out angrily, but Taylor could see something strange moving in his eyes. Something very similar to pain. "Now you're fucking someone in your band and that can't be casual...even for a slut like you."

Taylor restrained his first impulse, which was to pop him in one in the mouth. "Yeah well, shows what you know," he said simply.

Paul scoffed at that, saying sarcastically, "You mean you're not in love with him?"

His anger settling to a low-level buzz in the back of his mind, Taylor sighed and stepped back. "No. And I know he'll never love me." He snorted and sat down at the table. "Not that way, not *any* way. Slut, huh? You'd know."

Paul picked up the water bottle, sank down into another chair, and took a long drink. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and just stared in Taylor's general direction without making eye contact.

"Paul, you need help. Whatever has happened--or *not* happened--between us has nothing to do with that." Taylor wanted to reach out and touch him, but he didn't feel comfortable doing so in the wake of the conversation they'd just had. "Where did you go when you left the hospital? Straight to one of your dealer pals?"

Picking at the label on the bottle still clutched tightly in one hand, Paul nodded and raised watery eyes to Taylor's. "I know...I can't...I can't stop."

The admission just about broke Taylor's heart and all he could do was hope that this time... "If I find a place, will you go?"

Shame and misery radiating from every pore, Paul nodded slowly and laid his head down on the table. "I'm so tired."

Taylor put his hand on his back. "I know, buddy, I know." But he didn't really. All he knew for sure was that he'd prefer to be miles away from here in Billy's peaceful presence.

 

***

When the phone rang, Billy let his machine get it in case it was that real estate woman again. He wasn't in the mood to listen to her chatter on and on. But the voice coming out of the speaker wasn't the relentlessly cheerful one he was trying to avoid. It was Taylor and he sounded rather subdued.

"Hey, Billy, sorry I missed you. I found Paul. He's okay and he's agreed to rehab. That's good news, huh? I was hoping I could see you tonight, but if you're busy... Call me on my cell if you want to get a hold of me. See ya." He hung up before Billy could decide whether he wanted to pick up or not.

Billy had no idea what "found Paul" meant, unless the hospital had somehow lost the prick. He could call Taylor back and ask, or he could finish his book first. He'd just started day four in _The Andromeda Strain_. Settling back in his easy chair, he found his place and started reading again.

An hour later, the sound of a key in the lock dragged Billy's attention away from his book once more. He looked up briefly as the door opened, then went back to day five. He finished the last few pages quickly and laid the book aside. Looking up at his visitor, he sighed at the frown being directed at him. "What is it this time?"

"Some of these clothes are not yours. Now these--" His part-time housekeeper reached into the laundry basket and pulled out a pair of green boxers with fluorescent yellow smiley faces. "--I might write off as a joke or a gag gift of some kind. But the Biohazard T-shirt, the leopard print shirt, and the purple pants... I sure hope they weren't worn all at the same time."

"You're right, Mrs. Ford." Billy smiled politely. "Those're not mine, and you don't have to wash them."

"Well, as you can plainly see, I've already washed them. I want to know if this is going to become a habit. I don't mind doing for Miss Billie when she's here, but I'm not taking care of your...friends...unless I get a raise."

"Now, don't get all excited. If you see anything that's not mine, just toss it in a corner of the closet or something."

Mrs. Ford drew her middle-aged self up indignantly. "I keep a clean house, and I never toss things in corners."

"No. I don't know what came over me." Billy was already getting bored with this conversation and tried to think of what would end it quickly and satisfactorily for both of them. There was only one thing. "It won't happen again."

"All right then." She removed the offending articles of clothing from the basket and left the stack on the sofa with a little sniff that implied they were Billy's problem now. "I'll put your things away and start your dinner. I know it's a little early, but I can't stay until the proper dinnertime today."

Billy nodded, knowing she'd do whatever she wanted anyway. He just paid her and tried to stay out of her way.

"Don't you want to know why I'm leaving early?"

Billy shook his head and picked up the phone. "No, it's okay."

"It's my son's birthday. He's coming to pick me up early for dinner."

"Okay, have fun." Billy dialed Taylor's cell phone number and listened to the twittery rings as Mrs. Ford insisted on talking to him.

"He's doing very well at school." When Billy didn't respond, she tried a little harder. "He's got a four point grade average. He's going to be a *doctor*."

"That's nice." Taylor finally answered his phone, and Billy turned away slightly to say, "Hey. I got your message." He was vaguely aware of the housekeeper's departure from the room. "What did you mean you 'found Paul'? I didn't know he was missing."

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. I got to the hospital and he'd checked himself out against the doctor's orders. He wasn't at home either when I got here, but he turned up."

"You're at his place now?" Billy tried to figure out how he felt about that. He decided to go with his earlier acceptance. Yeah, that fit.

"Yeah. He's sleeping right now and I'm waiting for his sister to come over before I leave." Taylor's voice sounded tired and strained. Billy was willing to bet the kid was actually sitting down for once, instead of pacing back and forth the way he usually talked on the phone. "I found a facility that can take him but not for a few days. I didn't think it was a good idea to leave him alone yet."

"Yeah, probably not." Although, privately Billy knew that if an addict truly wanted to use, nothing would stop him--not a friend or an ex-lover, or a sister for that matter. Maybe having someone around to remind him why he didn't want to use would help, but even that was questionable. "Okay, so you're gonna stay over there tonight?"

"No, Cheryl's supposed to be here any time now. She's coming down from Santa Barbara or I'd have already left." Taylor cleared his throat and said, "You wanna do something?"

Billy smiled and wondered what he had in mind. He couldn't have the energy to do very much. "Today's Thursday."

"Oh yeah, it's home cooking day," Taylor said, his voice was almost comically eager. "What's Mrs. Ford fixing this time?"

"I don't know, but she's in there doing it right now. You wanna come over?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll head on out as soon as Cheryl gets here...if that's okay with you."

"Yeah, it's fine."

Billy hung up the phone and wandered into the kitchen to find Mrs. Ford arranging pieces of chicken in a baking dish. He opened the refrigerator door, peering inside for a moment before saying casually, "You got any vegetables on the menu?"

Mrs. Ford looked up at him in surprise as he turned back around. "Did you want something in particular?"

"Nah, whatever you got. He'll eat anything."

"Is this the owner of the leopard print and smiley faces?" she asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously behind her glasses.

Billy started edging toward the door before he admitted the truth. "Uh, yeah."

"Well then, he can pick up his clothes while he's here. You tell him next time he needs to take his clothes home with him."

"Yes, ma'am. I don't suppose you'd have time to make chocolate cake?"

"No, I wouldn't."

"Okay, just checking. I'll be in here if..." He didn't finish because she wouldn't need him. She knew her way around his kitchen better than he did. He left the kitchen and went to his office. He decided to finish a song he'd started the day before, because he thought he finally knew what it needed. If he could get it polished enough, it might make it onto the upcoming album. He already had a couple of other contenders, so he was sure to get something on there that he'd written completely on his own. That was important for him, now that he'd done it once.

***

Billy heard the doorbell, but didn't stop playing. A minute later, there was a knock on his office door. He raised his voice just enough to be heard on the other side. "Come in."

The door opened and Taylor came in holding a small bundle of clothes to his chest. He put them down on a corner of the desk. "I don't think Mrs. Ford likes me very much," he said with a frown.

"Half the time I don't think she likes me all that much either." Billy shrugged it off because he didn't really care one way or the other. He handed Taylor the lyric sheets for the song he'd just finished, and started playing it again from the beginning. "What do you think of this?"

Billy watched carefully for a reaction as he played. Taylor listened to the music as his eyes scanned the paper in his hand, and didn't say anything until it was finished. "Dude, that's good. I mean, really Good-with-a-capital-G. The chord changes are a little more complex than our usual stuff, but it's... I know you're up to it, and I'm sure Gary will be too. Maybe it's a natural progression." He shook his head and pointed to spot half way down the first page. "I don't know about this line right here though. It's a little confusing--not that I don't 'get it' just that I think Jenna's gonna stumble over it. It's up to you but maybe you could simplify it a little."

"Use smaller words, you mean?" Billy asked sarcastically, but he read the line over and over, singing it in his head and trying to imagine Jenna doing so. He had to reluctantly agree with Taylor, but all he would say was, "We'll see. I'll look at it some more after dinner."

"Something smelled good, but I was afraid to ask," said Taylor, with a sheepish grin. "She kinda scares me."

Billy shook his head and smirked. "What do you think she's going to do to you?"

"I don't *know*. That's the scary part."

"Well, I'm not staying in here until she leaves just because you're a baby." *Oh, shades of Joe there, eh Billy?* Billy ignored his sarcastic subconscious and walked out of the room.

"Mr. Tallent, do you want to eat now or heat it up later?" Mrs. Ford asked as soon as he walked into the kitchen.

"Now's good." He started to pick up a dish, but she smacked his hand away. "Well, can I at least get my own drink?"

"Yes, and you can get your guest one too." She picked up several dishes in the economical way of a woman who had waited quite a few tables in her time. She arranged them in the center of the table and then came back for plates and silverware. "If you're going to entertain, it wouldn't hurt to let me buy some table linens."

"I'm not entertaining." He suppressed a shudder as he opened up the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water and a can of Orange Crush.

"What else do you call it? You have a guest." Mrs. Ford opened the cabinet and took down two glasses, leaving them on the counter for Billy.

"He's not a guest, he's just...." Billy shrugged, ignored the glasses, and set the drinks on the table in their original containers.

"Wow, I feel so special," said the non-guest in question, poking his head into the kitchen.

"You want a table cloth, go to a fu--" A sharp look from Mrs. Ford had Billy breaking off the profanity and continuing lamely, "Go to a fancy restaurant."

Taylor laughed at him and, in a voice that sounded a little too Eddie Haskell to Billy, said, "Dinner smells wonderful, Mrs. Ford. I've enjoyed your cooking before when Billy was kind enough to share."

"Thank you." She shot an incredulous look at Billy, as if to say 'do you believe this suck-up?' and he manfully resisted the urge to snicker.

The sound of the doorbell broke up the odd little tableau in the kitchen. Since Taylor was closest, he went to open the door while Mrs. Ford finished what she doing. Billy drifted into the living room to see Taylor asking a tall, good-looking guy to come in.

The young man--and he was *young*, no more than twenty-one Billy would bet--smiled and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Mike Ford. I'm here to pick up my mother."

Taylor looked him up and down quickly before sticking his hand out with a flirtatious grin. "Taylor Bishop. Pleased to meet you."

Billy walked over to shake hands too. "Billy Tallent. She'll be-- oh, here she is."

Mike nodded and smiled at Billy, but his eyes slid back over to Taylor. As Mrs. Ford greeted her son and admonished Billy to eat before the food got cold, Billy tried to look at Taylor from a stranger's point of view. A week or so ago, he'd gotten his hair cut short so all the bleached streaks that used to hang down in his face were gone, leaving his features clear and open. And easy to read, the way he was looking at Mike as if he wished the college boy would hang around and be dessert.

Saying goodbye to the Fords, Billy shook his head and went back to the table. He sat down and started fixing his plate, and a moment later, Taylor wandered in and did the same. For several minutes, the conversation was limited to sentences that began with the phrases "Pass the" or "Hand me the", but eventually it branched out from there.

"That Mike seems like a nice guy," Taylor said casually.

Billy speared a crisp snow pea with his fork and bit it in half. "How can you tell? He didn't have time to say much."

"Well, he *looked* nice." Taylor took a sip of his soda and grinned. "And hot."

Billy shrugged. "He's all right, I guess."

"Not as hot as you, of course."

"Of course," was Billy's deadpan reply, but the comparison made him uncomfortable. He ignored the foot playfully nudging his under the table, and changed the subject. "Paul's sister get there okay?"

"Yeah, she'll take over from here. I've done all I can." Taylor stared hard at the bit of chicken on the end his fork and said, "More than I should have, possibly."

"What are you talking about?"

"I think he thinks there's some chance we could get back together if he gets clean." Taylor popped the bite into his mouth, and swallowing after a couple of perfunctory chews. "He didn't come right out and say that, but it's the impression I was getting. Maybe I'm crazy and totally reading him wrong."

"Would you? Get back together with him?" Billy asked curiously. He didn't feel particularly threatened by the thought, although it would be a really bad idea, in his opinion.

"No. Yeah, if he really cleaned up and was serious about it, maybe I'd be tempted. I don't know. I don't know why I let him get to me--it's too fucked up. I keep trying to take care of him all the time, and that's just stupid. I'm getting tired of it." Taylor shook his head and sadness shown in his eyes before he looked down at his plate. "He used to be so different. I don't know. Anyway..." He raised his head suddenly. "You're not jealous are you? About Paul or what I said about Mike?"

"You've asked me that before, and the answer's still no. Do you *want* me to be?"

"Well...yeah, maybe. At least a little." Taylor gave Billy a penetrating look that seemed to read him clear to his soul. "You're never going to be, are you?"

Billy felt bad but had to shake his head and say, "Sorry, kid."

"That's okay, Billy. Forget I said anything." He smiled and went back to eating his dinner, but Billy couldn't forget. It kept nagging at him for the rest of the evening.

***

As they finished dinner and went to look at Billy's latest song again, Taylor kept thinking about jealousy and Billy's complete lack of same. It wasn't that he wanted a lover who was possessive and suspicious, but the absence of jealousy in situations where such a reaction would be perfectly acceptable--even *expected*--pointed to a lack of something deeper missing in the relationship. Now he had to decide what to do with that realization, and none of the options that sprang to mind were very appealing.

Drumming on the desk with a couple of pencils might not be as good as the real thing, but it helped Taylor immensely in getting the song into his head and getting the sound of it. He stopped when Billy quit playing and scribbled some words on the paper. He shoved it over in front of Taylor and said, "Try that." Then he sat back in his chair and lit a cigarette.

Taylor read over the rewritten line and then started singing from the start of the verse. He was so far off-key that Billy raised an eyebrow and smirked at him. Taylor stopped singing and shrugged. "I can't do this a cappella. You're gonna have to play."

Shifting his cigarette to the corner of his mouth, Billy started playing again and Taylor started singing again, on key this time. When he got to the troublesome line, it wasn't. It flowed out as smooth as silk and he grinned when he was finished. "Much better, Billy. This could be your best yet. Jenna's gonna love this."

Billy smiled, then looked away and blew out a stream of smoke, and Taylor knew that would be all the reaction he'd get.

"Gonna play it for Jenna and Gary tomorrow?"

"Yeah, it's finished...enough." He crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray on the desk and gave Taylor an intense look that he had become well acquainted with in the last month or so. It was liquid and sexy, but oddly undemanding, which completely contradicted the hand that reached out and gripped Taylor's shirt to pull him closer.

Taylor let Billy tug him out of the room and felt an even stronger anticipation than usual. When Billy took charge like this, the sex was always a little extra good. And that caused Taylor no end of puzzlement and consternation, because he couldn't pinpoint *why* it was better. It just was.

Inside Billy's room, all Taylor had to do was step out of his shoes and pull his socks off with his toes. Billy took care of the rest of his clothes with amazing dispatch, and then brushed Taylor's hands aside and skinned out of his own in quick, fluid movements that Taylor sat on the bed and watched. Sometimes he thought he could just sit for hours and watch Billy move. There were no wasted or superfluous movements, but he never appeared to be in any particular hurry either. He seemed confident that the world would just go along at whatever pace he set.

Taylor certainly did. Like right now, when he was burning up to feel Billy's hands moving over his body, almost dying to touch Billy in return, he waited quietly while Billy tossed his clothes aside, took off his watch and bracelet, and laid them on the dresser. His eyes met Billy's in the mirror and he had to swallow down his impatience.

Billy didn't make him wait long. Crawling onto the bed, he straddled Taylor and pressed his open mouth to his neck, sucking too lightly to leave much of a bruise. For a brief moment, Taylor felt cheated. He wanted Billy to mark him for all the world to see, yet he knew that if he did it wouldn't mean anything. It wouldn't be what Taylor wanted, or *had* wanted, anyway. He'd told Paul that Billy was never going to love him, but he had to face the truth that deep down he had hoped that just maybe, someday....

Billy's tongue rasping along the edge of his ear drew Taylor out of his thoughts and back into the moment. Tightening his hands on Billy's back, he opened his eyes and stared at the side of Billy's head, noticing for the first time the silver mixed in with the gold, and suddenly knew that it wasn't the fifteen years that separated them that was important. It was what those years represented, but before he could clarify the thought, it slipped away on a tide of pleasure as Billy rocked his hips, making their cocks push and rub at each other.

Then a slow pulse from the end of Taylor's cock made the lack of lubrication cease to be a problem, and they were slipping and sliding together much easier. He writhed his hips against Billy's, increasing the friction as Billy took his mouth in a deep kiss. Taylor opened his mouth wider, desperate to drink in as much of Billy as he could because he knew he wouldn't last much longer although, if Billy was in one of his high stamina moods, it wouldn't matter if Taylor came now. Billy'd keep going until Taylor recovered enough to come again.

As if he'd read his mind, Billy reached down and took Taylor's cock in one hand. He stroked it and whispered, "Why don't we go ahead and take the edge off?" The low voice in his ear and the hand touching him exactly the way he liked it set his nerves on fire and he couldn't have kept from coming if he'd wanted to. He shuddered hard as pleasure shot through him and he came onto his belly.

Billy shifted to one side so that he lay on the bed instead of Taylor and ran his fingers through the streaks of semen, smearing it further over Taylor's skin. He brought his hand up and licked one fingertip, and Taylor felt his cock twitch at the sight of Billy's pink tongue lapping up come. He moaned when Billy put his finger in his mouth and sucked it clean.

With a little smirk, Billy ran his wet fingertips up Taylor's ribcage, making him squirm and laugh breathlessly. "Billy, please...please don't." He was so ticklish he'd piss himself if Billy decided to torture him, so he breathed a sigh of relief when Billy's fingers kept moving. They skated over his chest, pausing briefly to tweak a nipple before stopping at the tattoo just below his shoulder.

Billy traced the outline lightly with the edge of his fingernail and asked very seriously, "Why an eagle?"

"I wanted to fly." Taylor brought a hand up to Billy's biceps and traced the tattoo there. "Why "Champion"?"

Billy looked away and shrugged. "I don't remember. Some punk thing probably."

Taylor suspected that Billy did remember and just didn't want to talk about it for whatever reason. Strange how complacent he was getting about that shut-out feeling these days. Taylor shook his head and said, "It doesn't matter." But he wasn't sure to which of them he was speaking.

Billy looked back at him briefly before dipping his head down and licking all around the edges of the tattoo. Taylor groaned and shifted as arousal started to build again. He could feel Billy's cock against his thigh, getting hard again after losing some of its stiffness for a few moments after Taylor had come.

Rocking his body against Taylor's, Billy trailed his tongue down from the tattoo and circled a nipple several teasing times before finally scraping it lightly with his teeth. Taylor's breath caught in his throat and he moved his hands down Billy's back to his ass. He gripped it tight and tried to shift Billy back on top of him, but Billy resisted and scooted down the bed, trailing his tongue over Taylor's stomach.

At the first touch of Billy's mouth on his cock, Taylor almost came off the bed. Out of all the sex they'd had, Billy had only done this for him a handful of times, but he knew exactly what he was doing. Oh yes, oh yes, oh *yes* Billy knew and he gave it one hundred percent. There was nothing else in Taylor's world except his mouth so hot and wet and his tongue so instinctively precise at finding every ultra-sensitive spot. Billy found a good rhythm and the perfect amount of suction and Taylor's eyes just about rolled back in his head. He tried to clamp down on his self-control, but it slipped right out of his grasp. This orgasm hit him even harder than the last one. The waves of pleasure were still rolling through him when he felt Billy's hands on his knees. He didn't open his eyes, but he knew from experience that Billy was kneeling between his legs, putting on a condom and lube.

And then it was Billy's hand on his belly and Billy's cock pushing inside him, hitting his prostate and sending a fresh batch of sparks through him. Billy let out a quiet grunt and then a moan as he started pumping his hips, driving his cock in a little deeper on every stroke. Even though his cock was completely soft and he wasn't sure he'd ever come again, the fucking still felt good to Taylor. He opened his eyes just as Billy stopped moving, still buried deeply inside Taylor's body.

"Wrap your legs around my waist," Billy said in a gruff tone that Taylor would never dream of disobeying. Once Taylor's legs where apparently where he wanted them, Billy shifted his own legs around some and then leaned forward and slipped his hands around Taylor's back. Since he was so close, Taylor raised his head to kiss him, but before he could Billy tightened his arms. He rocked back onto his heels, bringing Taylor upright and driving his cock impossibly deeper.

For a breathless, brainless moment, Taylor thought it was so far inside him that it'd never come free. Billy's cock would be a part of him for the rest of his life, but then Billy's mouth was on his, demanding a response, and the silly thought fled back to wherever it came from. Billy kissed him like he was storing it up for some desolate future where kisses would be few and far between.

Billy started to rock Taylor slowly on his lap in a way that would have been comforting if they weren't naked and engaged as they were. Taylor's cock twitched like it really wanted to get hard and come again, but just couldn't swing it at the moment. He didn't even care. He just kept kissing Billy and rubbing his hands over Billy's body, feeling the fragile bones of his shoulders and pointed nubs of his nipples. He ran his fingers over the baby-soft skin on his sides just under his arms and across his sweat slick shoulder blades, down the wiry muscles of his arms to the long fingers gripping Taylor's hips.

After several moments, Billy pulled his mouth free and stared blankly at some point over Taylor's shoulder, gasping for breath. Taylor looked into his eyes, saw nothing but himself staring back, and then Billy's entire body shuddered with the force of his climax. Billy's eyes closed and a quiet moan escaped before he clamped his mouth shut.

Wrapping his arms around Billy, Taylor held him close until the tremors stopped and then he tipped them over onto their sides so they could both stretch their legs out. Billy reached down to hold the condom as he pulled free, and then stripped it off and dropped it into the small trashcan beside his bed. He collapsed onto the bed as if exhausted, and Taylor lay there and stared at him for several moments.

When Billy finally opened his eyes, Taylor could tell he was already gone, even though he hadn't moved a muscle. A sharp pain went through Taylor at the realization, but he buried it quickly. No reason to let Billy see it. He could hurt later in private and then get over it. Yes, he wanted something more, however, he couldn't rightly blame Billy for not being able to offer it. The only thing he could do for Billy was let him off the hook.

***

Sitting up against the headboard, Billy watched Taylor climb out of bed and start gathering up his clothes from the floor. He tiredly wondered where the kid got the energy to move that quickly.

"This isn't working out anymore, is it?" Taylor pulled on his pants and shirt, and then felt around under the end of the bed for his socks and shoes.

Billy shook his head, glad that the kid brought it up first. "Sorry, kid."

"It's okay. I don't love you, Billy. I mean, I like you--a lot, and having sex with you is awesome, but..." Taylor shrugged and looked down at the socks in his hand for a moment. When he raised his head, his eyes were clear and perceptive. "I don't think I've found the love of my life yet. But you did."

"No. No, it's not like that..." Leaning his arms on his upraised knees, Billy struggled to put into words something that just *was* for him. On the one hand, he didn't want to hurt the kid, and on the other, he wouldn't be too broken up if it happened anyway. Because it all came down to one simple thing-- "I don't need you. I like being with you just fine, but if you stop coming around, I'll still...be the same."

"I kinda suspected that. You don't even think in terms of love do you? Just need."

"I love my daughter," Billy admitted, uncomfortable with everything else but certain about that. "But, no, I don't really think that way."

"And you're happy," Taylor said confidently, sitting down on the end of the bed to pull his socks on. When he was done, he looked at Billy over his shoulder. "Well, I guess this is the most civilized break up ever."

Billy nodded solemnly. "I can throw something at you, you can hit me, and we can cuss each other out. You know, if it'll make you feel better." Then he smiled slightly, a peace offering in an extremely bloodless conflict.

"I don't think that'll be necessary."

Taylor laughed, and Billy breathed a sigh of relief. He'd had enough angry scenes and screaming fights with Joe to last him the rest of his life. He didn't need a new batch. The kid was taking this really well, all things considering. But he had to ask just to be absolutely sure. "Are we gonna be okay? As far as the band goes?"

"Well, yeah," Taylor said, still smiling, but with a confused wrinkle to his brow. "Nothing changes as far as the music goes, and I hope you'll still want to hang out sometimes. We can still be friends, right? Friends that don't fuck."

"Yeah, sure." Billy shrugged and watched Taylor stand up and try to step into his sneakers. He'd left them tied again and had to bend over and untie them before he could get them all the way on.

His face was a little pink when he straightened up and said, "Well, guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Billy nodded and was about to say good night, when Taylor spoke again, sheepishly this time. "You don't suppose that Mike is gay, do you?"

Billy just stared at him for a moment before answering. "How the fuck should I know?"

"Sorry, I forgot your gaydar is even worse than mine. It's just as well, since I doubt I'd have the nerve to ask his mother for his number." He shrugged and went to the door. "Good night, Billy."

"Good night, Taylor." After listening for the front door to close in the distance, Billy lay back against the pillows for a moment and then began to laugh helplessly as he pictured Mrs. Ford's reaction to her son--the almost-a-doctor-with-perfect-grades-- dating Taylor. He had a good mind to get Mike's number for the kid just to see what would happen.

Rolling onto his side and pulling the covers up, Billy realized that as much as he might miss the steady sex, breaking up with Taylor mostly just made him feel relieved. He'd have to deal with no more dramas but his own, no more pain but his own.

Sex he could get anywhere, but peace was priceless.

 

The End.


End file.
